


Whose Sable Arms

by Fyre



Series: Desire Increase [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Wherein the lads have a cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24685507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Aziraphale and Crowley are trying new things.Wherein an angel and a demon have a cuddle.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Desire Increase [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784770
Comments: 48
Kudos: 300





	Whose Sable Arms

**Author's Note:**

> gdi self. we don't need another series.

Sometimes, Aziraphale bakes.

Crowley’s not a big fan of food in general, but he can’t deny there’s something about watching Aziraphale pottering about in the kitchen, trying his best to follow human recipes. He’s not bad. Not _great_ either, but could definitely be a lot worse.

“Bother!” Aziraphale huffs, frowning into the pan. “It didn’t work.”

“Too hot?” Crowley suggests from his place on the couch. Lounging. Reclining. Spectating. Bit of all three, really. “Too cold?”

Aziraphale scrapes the forlorn attempt into a bowl. “Possibly,” he says and tries again with another measure of liquid from a jug.

Crepes today, apparently.

Trouble is…

Trouble is that if he learns how to _make_ the damn things, that’s another thing to scratch of the list of places to take him. No more watching him fighting a losing battle with whipped cream and strawberries at festival. No more miracling him a plate just in time to catch the drips and save his suit and earn that glowing smile.

Clearly, this can’t stand.

Crowley slinks to his feet, considering the weapons in his arsenal.

Something… ‘nice’. Has to be. Aziraphale would turf him out if he tried to divert him from crepes with something less than pleasant.

And they’d tried that hand-holding thing. A few times now.

Trouble with that is Aziraphale’s hands are occupied and…

Well… the rest of him isn’t.

All warm and soft, with his sleeves rolled up and his fussy little apron and can he really blame Crowley when he slips up behind him and – cautiously. New territory after all – curls his fingers over the plush swells of Aziraphale’s hips.

Aziraphale freezes, pan clattering on the hob. “What are you–”

Despite his intentions to distract Aziraphale, Crowley’s only gone and distracted himself. The angel was soft. Obviously he was. All padded and warm in places where Crowley isn’t, but Crowley can’t help digging his fingers in, squeezing, feeling the way the flesh gives just a little under his hands.

Doesn’t help when Aziraphale shivers under his touch.

“Let go?” Crowly asks. Sort of. Comes out more like lego. And a bit more whiny.

Then a warm hand covers his and his heart is a percussion set as his palm is pulled around, over the border of hip territory onto stomach. Coarse velvet, roughened and worn, rasps against his fingers and he feels Aziraphale’s soft, breathless exhale as he _presses._

Can’t help himself now that he’s got permission. He lets his hand wander, stroking gentle circles, as little by little he inches forward, closing the narrow gap between them, until they are flush, the softer lines of Aziraphale moulding to his sharper ones, there and warm. Soft curls brush his nose and he inhales, breathing in the scent of him.

Fingertips touch the back of his palm, tracing each of his bones through his skin as if he’s written in brail, some daft soppy sonnet picked out in tissues and sinew. And then those fingers thread between his, the intimate slide of them drawing a bloody stupid little noise out of him, sharp and stifled in Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Aziraphale murmured.

He tilts his head, getting a good view of ear and neck and the corner of the angel’s jaw. Curls his fingers around Aziraphale’s a little more, then – holding his breath, touches the place where collar turns to skin with his lips.

Aziraphale jolts against his arm, but his hand tightens on Crowley’s. Good sign, the demon thinks weakly, and because good sign, he does it again, just below the angel’s ear. The pan clatters away and Aziraphale presses back into him, ribs rising and falling like bellows.

Another breath of a kiss right on the corner of his jaw has Aziraphale’s head rolling to the side with the kind of little moan that make Crowley’s toes curl and the human parts of his corporation get very hot very quickly. Shaky too. Wobbly all over.

Mutely, he stops kissing. Just brushes back and forth, the faint rash of stubble on his chin rasping gently, his breath warm on Aziraphale’s skin, the angel shifting and sighing and squeezing his hand as if he’s doing something beyond leaning into him and breathing.

And…

And can’t help himself. S’a demon after all.

Gently, not hard, he bites.

Aziraphale gives a tiny, sharp cry that shoots fire through Crowley’s bones.

Something hits the floor, smashing.

“Oh! Oh, bother!” Aziraphale exclaims. “The batter!”

Crowley – merciful to both of them but only because his heart feels like it’s about to explode out through his ribs – plants a firmer kiss under the angel’s ear and steps back. “Bugger,” he says, almost sounding convincing.

Aziraphale swats him fondly, shooing him back out of the kitchen. His cheeks are rosy and he glances through his lashes, flirtatious and pleased. “You are the foulest of fiends,” he reproaches, miracling the mess away and turning off the hob.

Crowley grins at him, wondering how long it’ll take his vibrating heart to wind down from a buzz to its usual lazy thud.

Still, crepes averted and the taste of Aziraphale on his lips. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Whose Sable Arms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642842) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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